


When Sherlock Holmes Met Mr Right

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Coincidence, Confusion, Dancing, Dating Kinda, Drunken Flirting, Explicit Sexual Content, Gungho Sherlock, M/M, Sherlock is all about Johnlock, Sherlock is prepared to destroy an engagement, Sherlock is prepared to disrupt a wedding, Wedding, night out, rehearsal dinner, stag do, the universe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 17:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: John is celebrating upcoming nuptials on a drunken night out, but soon enough Sherlock realises the two of them belong together.





	1. The Stag Do

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> We aim to update once a month. All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got quite a few stories, and we invite you to get lost in them. **To keep up with our new stories, we hope you'll subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being a great community!

“Anyway, so that’s the story of how we met and my plan for seeing him later tonight,” Molly said before taking the last bite of her food. She glanced over at Sherlock who wasn’t eating but was listening. Well, she was pretty sure he was listening, though she knew he often didn’t. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked.

“I’m not really one for giving advice on these matters,” Sherlock said. He took a sip of wine and for a moment, he wished he was capable of saying something encouraging to her. She deserved that. But the best he could managed was “It seems like you’ve thought it out well.”

“I have,” she said, keeping her voice light. “So that’s why I thought you could come with me after dinner, you know, so I have a reason to be there -- drinks with a friend and all . . .”

“I don’t want to go,” Sherlock said too quickly. “You should go with one of your other friends . . . they’d be of more use.”

“I wanted you to come,” she said disappointedly.

“Molly,” Sherlock said calmly. He glanced around the restaurant and then leaned in a little. “I will just be a hindrance. I don’t want to ruin anything. Take one of your female friends -- they know about all this and could help.”

“No, they couldn’t,” Molly said. “They’re all . . . prettier than me. He’ll probably fancy them instead.” She looked down at her empty plate.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock said. He’d met a few of them and never found any of them interesting in the slightest.

“I’m not,” she said, looking up at him. “If I’m next to one of them, he’ll look right past me. If I’m next to you . . . I’ll just say you’re my nice gay friend and there won’t be any problems at all.”

“Is that how you see me?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, I’m not sure ‘nice’ is the right word,” Molly said, managing a little smile. “Of course, I don’t see you just as that -- you’re handsome and clever and interesting and all that, all right? You know I think you’re brilliant, but tonight I just need you to be there beside me so I don’t look desperate showing up at the bar I know he’ll be at. Okay?”

Sherlock couldn’t believe he was even considering this. But Molly was his friend and had helped him so many times. “You sure you’ve thought of everything?” he asked.

“Yes, trust me, I have,” she said. “And if something were to go wrong, I’ll give you a signal and we’ll leave immediately.” She looked over at him. “Please . . .”

Sherlock tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth. “I’ll need a constant supply of alcohol,” he said. “And if I want a cigarette, I’m going to go out and have one . . .”

Molly smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “You can go out to smoke and get as stupidly drunk as you want. I’ll make sure you get home safely.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she repeated.

He gave her a little smile in return and then reached for his wallet. “All right then,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

A few streets over, John laughed as he watched Jim stumble along, thankfully not falling on his face. He saluted a couple girls passing by and John shook his head, moving to hurry him along. Jim had started early and was three sheets to the wind already, making John's job a lot harder. The best man was no better, singing as he led the way to the next bar. 

John couldn't complain. He was having a good time celebrating his friend's upcoming wedding. With a week left, there was nothing else to do but count down the days. 

When they walked in, the best man went straight to the bar but John moved him along. "I'll get this round," he said over the music. "Go sit." When the man left John moved to the bar to order.

Molly waited somewhat impatiently as Sherlock finished his cigarette outside the door. “Hurry up,” she said. “It’s freezing.”

Sherlock took one more drag and then dropped the cigarette on the ground. “Your cheeks are pink,” he said. “He’ll like that.”

Molly pushed on his arm. “You’re drunk already,” she said awkwardly. That felt like a compliment, a Sherlock compliment at least. 

“Not yet,” he said, pulling the door open for her. “Soon, though.” 

She headed to the bar and he followed, scanning the area for her man even though he had no idea what he looked like. 

“What would you like?” she asked while they waited.

“Something that makes me look like your nice gay friend,” he said.

She hit his arm again. She liked when he was a little silly -- she didn’t see that side of him very often, but she knew that his willingness to show it to her meant he trusted her. When she got the bartender’s attention, she ordered a cosmopolitan and a Manhattan. “With a cherry,” she added.

Sherlock reached for his wallet, but she shook her head. “My treat,” she said. She handed him his drink and took hers. They stepped away and turned to face the room.

“Is he here?” he asked. He took a sip of the drink. It was quite good.

She tried to casually look around. She noticed a group of men who looked like they might be on a stag do. “I don’t see him,” she said. “He probably won’t come. This was a stupid idea. Maybe we should go.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “He’ll show and he’ll see how lovely you and your pink cheeks are, and everything will go just as you planned.” He took another sip. 

“Stop being sweet,” she said, starting to relax a little. “It’s off putting.”

“Fine,” he said. “We’re staying because now I’m here, this drink is good, and I am ready to judge everyone in this bar -- don’t take those things away from me.”

“There’s the Sherlock I recognise,” she said with a laugh.

Sherlock noticed a couple get up from two bar stools. “Sit?” he asked, and they moved over and sat down.

John pointed to the table where they were all sitting so the waitress would know where to bring the tray of drinks. He headed back to his friends, promising the second round as well. That earned him a big cheer.

Sherlock looked up when a group of men cheered. “Will he be in a group like that?” he asked.

“I don’t think so -- I think it’ll just be him and my neighbour,” she said. “Casual, you know.”

“Very clever,” Sherlock said. He’d almost finished his drink. “Do I have to eat the cherry?” he asked her.

“Probably -- let’s say it’s for luck.”

He sucked the cherry into his mouth and bit down on it. “Oh my God, it’s sweet -- it’s disgusting,” he said, swallowing it quickly. He looked at Molly’s drink. “Need another one?”

She shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. 

Sherlock nodded to the bartender who brought him another drink. 

“He’s handsome,” Molly commented.

“Is any man in this bar safe from you?” he asked.

“I meant for you, you idiot,” she said. “You need to pay better attention -- he was checking you out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock said. He glanced over at the bartender who was turned away serving someone else. “Let’s just focus on your budding relationship.”

“Oh my god,” she said quietly. “He’s here.” She brushed her hand through her hair. “They’re coming over.”

“Molly,” a man said. “Good to see you.”

“Andrew, hello,” Molly said. Sherlock could tell she was trying so hard to act as if this whole thing hadn’t been planned to every detail. “This is my friend, Sherlock -- we work together and just stopped in for a quick drink. What are you up to tonight?”

“The same really,” Andrew said. “This is my friend, Daniel. Daniel, Molly -- the neighbour I was telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you,” Daniel said, smiling at Molly. “Both of you,” he added, looking over at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded a little and lifted his glass to his mouth.

“The usual?” Andrew said to Daniel who nodded. “Molly, can we get you another drink?”

Molly pretended to think for fifteen seconds and then said, “Sure, thanks. Cosmopolitan.”

The two men took a few steps down the bar to order their drinks.

Sherlock leaned over and said quietly, “So far, so good.”

She smiled. “See? You are helping,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t leave me with Andrew, okay?” he said, as the two men headed back. Daniel handed Molly her drink. “So, Molly, what do you do?” he asked.

Sherlock took another drink and listened to Molly talking. He scanned the room again, noticing the table of loud men. They weren’t too young, even though they were behaving that way. This didn’t seem like a typical night out but something special. 

“Right, Sherlock?” Molly said to him.

“Right,” he said back, without having any idea what she was talking about. 

“And you, Daniel,” Molly started. “Andrew said you work for the BBC?”

Daniel glanced at Andrew. “Well, yes, but I’m just a researcher -- I don’t get to meet anyone famous,” he said. The stool next to Molly opened up and Daniel sat down.

Andrew moved closer to Sherlock. “All right?” he asked.

Sherlock nodded. “You?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Andrew said and then turned away.

Sherlock sucked the cherry out of his drink.

John watched the lads drain their glasses, competing to see who would finish first. Ted won, and the table went up in cheers again. 

"I get to pick the next drink and I want shots!" Ted tossed his arms up and then hugged the two men beside him. “And since John was the slowest, I'm going to make him order . . . lemon drops!"

John laughed. "Seriously? They'll know who they are for. I'm not embarrassed by that girlie drink." He stood and made his way to the bar again to order.

Sherlock had slowed down on his drink a little, but this time when he finished, he got up from his chair to move to a different place to order. He watched Molly talking and smiling -- it seemed like she had relaxed a little and was actually enjoying herself. He realised they hadn’t arranged how this would end; he didn’t know if he was supposed to be hanging around all night or what. The bartender brought him another Manhattan. He noticed Andrew had slipped into his free barstool which meant he’d have to loiter around Molly and Daniel, so instead he walked to the other end of the bar. He was bored, but the drinks were starting to take effect, and he needed to find something to hold his attention.

One of the men from the loud table was ordering a tray of shots. Yes, this was definitely a night of celebration. The man was quite handsome so Sherlock stepped toward him and said, “Those all for you?”

John leaned closer to hear the man over the music. He shook his head and pointed at the table, where the best man now had Jim in a head lock, trying to mess up his freshly cut hair.

“Must be an important evening,” Sherlock said.

John nodded toward the table. He said, "A week ‘til the wedding!" as he lifted all four glasses in a different toast to the man before going back to his friends.

Of course, Sherlock thought, a man like that would be in a relationship. At the moment, he was a bit annoyed by people in love. He got himself another drink and walked back to Molly. “Just going outside for a moment -- everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, great, just enjoying ourselves . . . no rush,” she said. She gave him a smile that said ‘it’s all going well but don’t leave me alone just yet.’

“I’ll be back,” he said. He walked out front and lit a cigarette. The cool air felt nice. He thought about Molly’s giddiness over the new man and about the bartender and then about the handsome man from the stag do. He felt lonely -- he didn’t often think about that, he kept himself busy enough not to have to. But being here around all this, he couldn’t deny it. He finished his cigarette and went inside, hoping Molly’s confidence level had grown so he could head home for the night.

John took the shots to the table and passed them out. They tapped their glasses and took the shot. There was more cheering and then the leering started. The single men slid out of the booth and started approaching women who had been watching them since they walked in. 

John looked around for the man at the bar, but he didn't see him anywhere. He scanned the dance floor but wasn't surprised not to see him there. He didn't seem the dancing type. He scooted in next to Jim and they started people watching, laughing at the odd dancing they saw.

When the boys came back turned down, Ted went up for more shots. As he was rather wasted, John caught up and said he'd carry them instead, promising to use Ted's tab for this round.

Coming into the warm bar from the cold felt good. Sherlock went up to the bar to get one more drink. He knew he was already quite drunk, but one more to keep him occupied until Molly was ready to go wouldn’t hurt. He noticed the handsome man at the bar again, so he moved down toward him.

John glanced over and smiled. "Hello again."

“Hello . . . what did you say your name was?” Sherlock said.

"I didn't, but it’s John," he said. 

“Well, John,” Sherlock said. “You and your friends seem to be drinking to excess -- I hope you’re not planning on driving home tonight.”

"I appreciate your concern but we'll take a taxi," he said. "I'll make sure they get home safe."

“Very responsible for a drunkard,” Sherlock said. He smiled a little as he reached for his own drink.

"It's a celebration after all," John said. He tapped his shot on the man's glass, swallowed it down, and then ordered another to take with him to the table.

“Well, do you have an emergency number I should ring if I see you stumbling toward a vehicle or heading to the dancefloor?”

"What's wrong with the dance floor?" John grinned.

“You’re impaired -- you could hurt someone out there,” Sherlock said.

John laughed properly. "Don't worry, I won't be dancing."

“Why not? Too busy trying to get even drunker?”

"Well that's going to happen anyway. But I don't fancy dancing with anyone."

“Understandable,” Sherlock said. “And you don’t have work tomorrow or do you mostly just drink full time?”

"I do work, but not tomorrow."

“So you’re a responsible alcoholic?”

"I'm a responsible party goer," John corrected.

“All right then,” Sherlock said. “It’s been interesting talking to you -- enjoy the rest of your night.”

"Thanks, you too." John smiled and walked off with his tray of shots. Everyone at the table was shouting for him.

Sherlock moved back to Molly. “Who was that?” she asked him.

“No idea,” he answered.

“I know him,” Andrew said. “Well, I don’t know him, but I think he’s a doctor. I’ve seen him at the hospital.”

“A doctor?” Molly said.

“I don’t think he’s a doctor,” Sherlock said. “I think he’s an alcoholic.”

“And you’d know, right? Have you been drinking Manhattans all night?” Molly asked.

“I suppose I have,” he admitted. “I’m going to regret the cherries.”

“Well, we need to take off, I think,” Daniel said. “So Molly, see you on Friday?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It was good meeting you.”

“You, too,” Daniel said. “And you, Sherlock -- good luck with the doctor,” he added as he and Andrew headed to the door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked Molly. “I’m not ill -- I was trying to make a joke about the cherries. Did he not understand?”

She smiled. “I think he meant about your boyfriend at the bar,” she said. “Did you ask him out then?”

“What? No,” Sherlock said. 

“He’s handsome and you were smiling when you were talking to him . . .”

“He’s getting married next weekend,” Sherlock said. “And I am drunk.”

“Fine,” she said. “I won’t tease you . . . I owe you for helping me tonight.” She looked over at him. “It went well, I think, right? Did you like Daniel?”

Sherlock finished his drink. “It went well,” he said. “I told you he’d find your pink cheeks irresistible.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” she said. “You’re sweet when you’re drunk.”

“I am -- sweet and drunk,” he said. “And full of cherries. I want to go home now.”

“All right, you fool,” she said. “Let’s go.”

John sat down with the new tray of shots and joined in the loud cheers and laughter. Before long they were settling their tabs and moving on to the next place. John looked around for the man he was talking to at the bar, but he didn't see him anywhere. He tried not to think about it and focused on the party again, helping the group move along to the next pub. Slowly everyone started branching off and dipping out. John made sure they got into cabs heading to the right addresses. He left the groom with the best man and he took a taxi of his own back to his flat. 

Sherlock was too loud on the stairs as he came in, and Mrs Hudson came out to check on the noise. “Are you drunk?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, more loudly than he’d intended.

“Stop shouting,” she said. She watched him struggle with the door and then called, “Drink some water” before turning and going back inside.

Sherlock walked straight over to the sink and stuck his head under the faucet. He ran his fingers through his hair and squeezed the water out, and then put the kettle on. He drank a full glass of water while it boiled and then carried his cup of tea over to the sofa.

Tonight hadn’t really been much fun. He was glad Molly was happy, he was, but he also knew that when Molly was dating, she had less time for Sherlock, which made Sherlock feel lonely. In that way, her happiness actually did affect Sherlock’s life in a negative way. He was sure that Mrs Hudson would call him selfish for thinking that, but she also wouldn’t be able to deny his logic.

It was kind of like the bartender or, even worse, the handsome man -- how dare he talk to Sherlock, smile, and be quite so handsome when next weekend he was getting married? It was almost cruel really, a joke the entire world was playing on Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock took a sip of his tea, but somehow it’d gone cold. He glanced at the clock and realised he’d been sitting there thinking for almost an hour. He got up and tipped the tea away. He drank another glass of water, stopped into the bathroom, and then dropped onto his bed, falling into a jagged sleep.


	2. Shopping

John slept in late and stayed in bed even later. When he finally dragged himself out of bed, he sent out a text to make sure that everyone was okay before getting into the shower. 

Sherlock only woke up when he heard pounding. At first he thought it was in his head but it wasn’t, it was on the door.

“You alive?” Mrs Hudson asked, stepping inside.

“I think so,” he said. “I was asleep.”

“I assumed,” she said. “I came up for some milk.”

“Go ahead,” he said, moving over to the sofa and carefully sitting himself down. He heard her turn on the kettle and then open the fridge door. Her movements seemed extraordinarily loud this morning. His head was throbbing, and at the moment it felt like he needed a cup of tea more than he needed to breathe.

She came into the sitting room, carrying the milk bottle.

“Go get dressed,” she said.

“Why?”

“You’re out of milk,” she said, holding up the almost empty bottle. 

“Just use that,” he said.

“I intend to,” she said, turning and moving to the door. “But now there’s none for you. Besides you need to wake up and face the day.” She opened the door to leave but added, “Get an extra pint for me, yeah?”

Sherlock groaned a little, and then dragged his body from the sofa into the shower. The water hurt as it hit him, but the steam helped wake him up. He slowly got dressed and then headed out. He went into the coffee shop first to get a cup of tea, which he drank outside the door as he smoked a cigarette. That helped a little. Then he made his way to the shop.

When John was feeling more like himself, he got dressed and headed out to get some food. He walked, so the fresh air could help clear his mind and get him a hundred percent again.

As Sherlock stood in line, he looked up and noticed a man coming in who looked familiar. It took a second for his brain to remember, but then he knew: it was the handsome man from the bar. He ran his hand through his hair and then felt embarrassed, turning his head away. Then he decided that this was too much of a coincidence. He stepped out of the queue and followed the man down the frozen aisle.

“Hello again,” he said casually.

John looked up and was surprised to see the man from the bar last night. "Oh, hello," he said. 

“I trust you got home safely,” Sherlock said. 

John motioned to his body. "Safe and sound. And so did all of my friends," he smiled.

“Good,” Sherlock said. “Feeling all right this morning, or rather afternoon?”

"Yeah, I feel great. How about you? Did you stay out late?"

“No, we went straight home,” Sherlock said. “Interesting I’ve never seen you here before. Is this all you’re planning for your day off?”

John tilted his head a bit. He was sure the man had been flirting, but maybe the woman he’d been sitting by was his wife? "Well, there was no plan, but my fridge is nearly empty so here I am."

Sherlock thought for a second. “Would you like to get some lunch?” he asked. It was easier to ask since this clearly wasn’t a date since he knew the guy was days away from marriage. But Sherlock found him kind of interesting as well as handsome so what harm could a lunch do?

"Lunch? Uh, yeah, sure," John said. "Let me just finish up and then we can go."

“Excellent,” Sherlock said. As they passed the chilled section, he stuck the two pints of milk back on the shelf. He watched the food John chose -- he must live on his own right now as he was definitely buying for just one, but clearly this was just a few days’ worth of food.

"If you want we can walk back this way for the milk," John said.

“No, that’s fine -- she can wait,” Sherlock said. He glanced over at John’s profile. Yes, he definitely fancied him. He wished they had met before it was too late for Sherlock to have a chance.

So that woman was this man’s partner. "Okay. Well, I might actually come back, so I don't have everything melting while we're having lunch."

“All right, let’s get some lunch and we can come back after,” Sherlock said. He lifted his hand to John’s back as they turned, but then he quickly dropped it, even though he liked the way it made him feel.

"Did you have a place in mind?" John asked. "I’m not picky."

“There’s an Italian not too far away,” Sherlock said. “Too heavy for a hangover?”

"I'm not hungover," John smiled. "Italian sounds great."

“Good,” Sherlock said. “I confess I’m a bit hungover.”

"Are you? Well, a little grease will help," he said.

“Hmm . . . I don’t eat much, let alone grease,” Sherlock said. “Tea is what I need.”

"If you insist," John said. "So what do you do?"

“I’m a psychic,” Sherlock said. He looked over at John with serious eyes. “I’m getting . . . medical from your aura. Are you a doctor?” 

John blinked in surprise. "I am, actually. How did you know?"

“I told you I’m a psychic,” Sherlock said, opening the door to Angelo’s.

John raised his brows. "Okay. Can I get my future read?" 

Once they sat down, Sherlock said, “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll need your hand.”

John slid his hand across the table and smiled brightly.

Sherlock held his hand and then closed his eyes. “You’re facing a big change in your life . . . involving another person who is part of your destiny, if you are the kind of person who believes in destiny. You’re also about to be in an awkward situation.”

“Sherlock!” Angelo called loudly. He grabbed a candle from another table and set it down. “So good to see you. And who is this lucky man?” He looked over at John.

“It’s my doctor,” Sherlock said abruptly. “We’re discussing my test results.”

Angelo pulled a face and set two menus down before walking away.

Sherlock said, “I knew he’d get the wrong idea.” He skimmed the menu and then set it down. “Get whatever you want, I’m sure it’s all good.”

"Not totally wrong," he said. “So your name is Sherlock? That’s an interesting name.” He skimmed over his menu and decided on a flat bread bruschetta and a salad.

That felt like flirting to Sherlock but maybe his headache was affecting him. “I knew you’d say that about my name,” he said.

“Because you’re psychic?”

“No, because most people say it.”

Angelo returned with two cups of tea and took their orders. When he left, Sherlock said, “Tell me something that your aura doesn’t reveal.”

John thought about it. "You should have seen this in my palm, but my life line is slightly interrupted."

“In what way?” Sherlock asked.

"I was in the army," John said. "I technically died for a few minutes."

“Your shoulder?” Sherlock asked.

"How did you know?" John asked.

“I’m not a psychic,” Sherlock admitted. “But I do . . . notice things. You hold yourself in a certain way.” Of course, Sherlock did more than notice things: he read people. And what he read from John today is that perhaps his life was not as happy-go-lucky as the drunken man last night implied. It was the kind of detail that Mrs Hudson normally scolded him for, so he decided to keep it to himself. Besides what would be the purpose of pointing that out -- John was getting married soon and, despite the fact that paths crossed twice in the last 24 hours, the truth was they would probably never see each other again. 

"Hmm. That's pretty amazing," John said.

“Is it?” Sherlock said, revealing a small smile. “Well, I’m not sure about that. Sometimes it’s a curse -- at least that what’s people normally do when I say things I notice.”

"Oh. Well, it's pretty clever," John smiled. "I can't do that."

“What can you do?”

"Nothing clever like that. I'm just a doctor," John shrugged.

“And when you say doctor . . . do you mean heavy drinker, gambler and compulsive liar? Sherlock asked.

"By doctor I just mean doctor, working in a boring outpatient surgery," John said. "I'm not a drunk," he added a bit harder than he meant to.

“Neither am I,” Sherlock said. “Though I did drink too much last night.” Angelo came over to set the plates down. When he left, Sherlock looked over at John. “How do you find excitement then?”

“I don’t,” John confessed. "Do you find excitement?"

“Indeed I do,” Sherlock said. “In my work.”

"And what is your work? For real?"

“I’m a consulting detective,” Sherlock said, taking a small bite of his salad.

"Oh," John said with genuine interest. "For the police? Or anyone?"

“For the police or anyone,” Sherlock said. “Well, anyone I find interesting. Why? Have you got a case for me?”

"Not at the moment," he said. "Are you working anything right now?"

“No, well, I was researching all day yesterday, but not for a specific case,” Sherlock said. He took another bite and then quietly added, “Did you read last month about that fire that turned out to be a murder-suicide?”

John nodded. Then his brows rose a bit. "Was that you? I mean, you solved it?"

“Yes,” Sherlock said plainly. “It didn’t really make a difference . . . they’re still dead. But the police had no idea.” He took a sip of water. “I just like figuring things out.”

"But you found who did it, that's amazing!"

Sherlock went warm with the word -- no one had ever said that before. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Not quite the same as saving lives like you, though.”

"But just as important," John said. 

“Is that what’s most important to you?”

"Saving lives?" John asked. 

“Yes, I mean . . . if you were going to try to tell me who you were in one sentence, would it be ‘I’m John and I save lives’ or would something else sum you up?”

John smiled. "'I'm John and . . . I don't know. I'm complicated."

“I already knew that,” Sherlock said. “I notice things, remember?”

John nodded. "I do remember."

Sherlock ate a few more bites of salad. “So, after the shop, what are your plans for the day?” he asked.

"I don't have anything planned. Just recovering because I go back to work tomorrow again. What about you?"

“Just picking up the milk,” Sherlock said. “I’m waiting for a case, but apparently all criminals are on holiday.”

John smiled. "I'm sure they'll pick up again before you know it."

“Do you know any killers?” Sherlock said with a smile. “Or people worried someone else has something to hide? The police call pretty regularly, but I’d like more of my own clients.”

“What kind of advertising do you do?”

“None,” Sherlock said. “I’ve got a website, but I’ve never got any clients from it . . .”

John crinkled his face and said, "Maybe you need to spruce it up a bit, advertise it more."

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said, not sure exactly what John meant. “I’ll have a think about it.”

John nodded. "Okay. I was just saying."

“Any other advice you’ve got for me?” Sherlock asked. “You’re a strangely helpful man, which is probably the most complementary thing I’ve ever said to a person,” he added with a smile.

"I think I’m tapped out," John grinned.

“Fair enough,” Sherlock said. He ate a little bit more -- it was helping his headache. He was actually enjoying himself quite a bit.” 

"I might be able to come up with more suggestions by the next time I see you. If you want to see me again, I mean,” John said.

Sherlock thought that was an unusual thing to say -- did he not have things to do before the wedding? “I think I would,” he said. “But I’m sure you’re quite busy.”

"Not until the weekend," John smiled.

Sherlock looked at him. He was extremely handsome and interesting and offering to help. “All right then,” he said. “I’ll take you up on that offer. Tomorrow? Will you have time after work?”

John nodded. "I get off work at five," he said.

“Would you be interested in coming round to mine? I could order in some food and you can take a look at what I’ve done and make suggestions.”

John nodded. "Okay, sure. I'm not an expert, but I'll check it out."

“Excellent,” Sherlock said. He pulled a card out and gave it to John. “Here’s the address and my number is anything comes up.”

"Okay." John smiled as he took the card. "Does this mean this date is over?"

Sherlock’s throat caught for a moment, and then he realised John must just be teasing him. “Well, probably,” he said. “You’ve got your shopping to do and I was supposed to be bringing in milk about two hours ago. I need to get back before I’m in too much trouble.”

John smiled. "Well, we can walk to the shop together at least, yeah?"

Sherlock smiled. “Of course.” He looked over at Angelo, who came over to take the plates. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Excellent as usual,” Sherlock said. As he carried things away, Sherlock slipped some money onto the table and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said to John.

John smiled and led the way out of the restaurant. "That was a good pick," he said as they walked.

“I’ll be honest -- it’s the only place I go,” Sherlock said. “I did some work for the man a while ago, and now he never charges me.” 

"Oh! Was it a case?" John asked.

“Sort of,” Sherlock said. He had a cigarette as they walked to the shop. “You going to need help carrying your things home or will you be all right?” he asked.

"I'll be okay. I'm not too far from here," he said. "Thanks though."

Sherlock grabbed two pints of milk and then looked over. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said. “Let me know if something comes up.”

"You too," John said, watching Sherlock walk off. He finished his shopping, moving through the aisles quickly. He was eager to get back home and rest since after work tomorrow he'd be going out instead of home. Just thinking about it left him smiling stupidly.

When Sherlock got back to Baker Street, he knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door.

“What happened to you?” she asked, taking the milk. “I need another cup of tea.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled and turned to go upstairs to make his own cup of tea. As the kettle boiled, he looked around the flat. He’d need to tidy it up a little and get the bedroom upstairs ready. John Watson was coming to the flat tomorrow, and Sherlock was now sure -- upcoming wedding or not -- that he and John Watson were meant to be together.


	3. The Website

In the morning, Sherlock was up early, tidying. He went up to the small room upstairs and opened the windows to let air in. He put some sheets and a blanket on the bed and dusted the old furniture. Then he went back downstairs and started cleaning up his work area.

John groaned when he walked into the office and saw the lobby was already full. He knew what to expect, but he was foolishly hoping it would be a slower day. He took a deep breath and got his head in the right place before he started seeing patients. And then he remembered that he would be seeing Sherlock later and the day started moving much more easily.

Once the flat was neat and clean, Sherlock went out to the shop, stopping first to see if Mrs Hudson needed anything. He didn’t buy a lot -- he just wanted to have a few options in case John wanted something to eat or drink. Once he’d put all that away, he finally focused on himself -- shaving and showering so that he was ready for John’s arrival.

When John was finished for the day, he felt tired but excited. 

_I've just finished work. Can I come by? JW_

Sherlock’s phone buzzed in his hand.

_Yes. I’m just finishing up some reading. I’ll see you soon. SH_

John smiled as he left the office.

_Should I pick anything up? -JW_

_No. We can order something if you get hungry. SH_

Sherlock got up and put the kettle on. He checked himself quickly in the mirror and then tried to relax as the kettle boiled.

John hailed a cab and read the address off the card. It wasn't long before they arrived. John paid and admired the building before knocking on the door.

Sherlock came down to meet John. “Good to see you,” he said, leading him in. “We’re up here.”

John followed him up the stairs. "This is a really nice place," he said.

“It’s very good actually,” Sherlock said. “Spacious.” He moved to the kitchen and poured two cups of tea, bringing them in. “Sit down,” he said, handing a mug to John and sitting down in his chair. “How was work?”

"Very busy," John said, sipping his tea. "I'm glad the day is over. That part anyway." He smiled at Sherlock. "How was your day?"

“Relatively busy,” Sherlock said. “I did some preparatory work . . . haven’t heard from the police, though, so I do appreciate any advice you have for the website.”

"Oh, right. Can I see it?"

“Of course,” Sherlock said. “Let’s have our tea first. So do you live near here? Is your place as nice as this?" 

"It's not as nice as this," John said, looking around.

“You’ve lived there long?”

"Since I got back from the army. Just a few years."

“Will you be staying there?” Sherlock asked.

"What do you mean?" John asked. "I'm not planning on going anywhere any time soon."

“Sorry, I thought you mentioned leaving,” Sherlock said. “Have you got a lot of family?”

"Not really. Just my mum and sister. They don't live near the city."

“And would you say that you believe in fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it?” Sherlock asked before taking a sip of tea.

"I don't know. I'm a bit bitter about it at the moment," he admitted. "Do you?"

Sherlock was surprised by the answer. He hadn’t expected the word bitter to come from a man who was about to be married. “I believe there’s a reason for things,” Sherlock said. “Even if it’s not initially apparent. I don’t know that I’d call it fate, but even what appears to be coincidence must have a reason.” He finished his tea. “Shall we look at the website now?”

John took one last sip of tea and nodded. "Yes, let's see."

Sherlock got up and moved over to his desk, motioning for John to follow. He sat down and opened his laptop to his website. “It’s simple looking,” he explained. “But I thought that was better -- the information there should be what’s most impressive.”

John tried to see the screen but had to move closer and lean over Sherlock's shoulder to get a better look. He skimmed over what he saw, his attention already drifting. It was interesting, but it was like being in school again. "Um . . . . it’s good," he said. "But it's not . . . not really for advertising."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second and inhaled John’s smell deeply, imprinting it in his memory.  “But the information . . .  it’s all quite interesting, isn’t it? Do you need to sit down to read it?” he shifted as if to offer John his chair.

"I -- no, it's okay." John stayed leaned over, turning his head to look at Sherlock. He liked being this close to Sherlock -- he was very handsome. And his eyes . . . John couldn't look away. "Can I be honest with you?" he asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “I would prefer it.” 

"It's interesting," he said. "But it reads like a textbook and I think the general public will find it . . .  you know. Boring."

Sherlock looked over at John’s face which was very handsome, but at this moment, it was telling him something else: that John was honest. He was also kind obviously because his face was sympathetic, but that kindness wouldn’t stop him from telling the truth.

And that was a feature Sherlock appreciated very much.

“All right then,” he said. “Obviously the general public is made up of idiots, but if I’m trying to attract clients, I need to appeal to idiots. Any suggestions on how I could do that?”

"Well, they like to be pulled in. Hooked. Maybe you should write about your cases."

Sherlock thought for a moment. “I fear I’d write them in ways idiots would find boring . . .” he admitted.

"Maybe someone can write them for you," he asked. "I'm sure a writer would find them interesting and make them very appealing."

“Perhaps . . . well, thanks for the advice,” Sherlock said. He looked at the screen again. “Are you in a rush to get home?”

John finally stood up straight again, shaking his head. "No."

Sherlock smiled. “Good,” he said. “Do you want to get something to eat or . . .?”

"Yes, do you mind if we order something?" John asked.

“Of course not,” Sherlock said. He pulled out a drawer and handed John some menus. “These are all in the area -- they all deliver. Good location,” he reminded him.

John looked through them all and decided on Thai, taking out his phone to order. "Do you want anything?"

“Use my name and say I’ll have my usual,” Sherlock said.

John nodded as he dialed. When they picked up, he gave Sherlock's name and got his usual, then ordered his own food. When he tried to give his card number, they said it didn't match the one on file. John insisted that he wanted to pay for it but they just kept arguing that it didn't match. He moved the phone away from his ear. 

"They won't let me use my card."

“They don’t charge me,” Sherlock said. “We’ll give him a tip.”

"Oh. Why did you let me go through all of that?" he asked Sherlock, finishing the order. "Why does everyone owe you food?"

“No one owes me anything,” Sherlock said. “Some people just like to . . . I don’t know, give me food. Anyway, I didn’t tell you because I liked watching you try to solve a problem.  I learned a lot.” He gave him a smile. “Want something to drink?”

John rolled his eyes but smiled as he hung up. "Yes please."

“Wine or water or tea?” Sherlock said. “Or whiskey. Those are the only options, I’m afraid.”

"Wine, please.”

Sherlock opened a bottle and poured two glasses. They moved back into the sitting room. “So have you got a lot to do this week?” he asked.

John shook his head. "I'm not the best man," he laughed. "I just have to show up."

“Right,” Sherlock said. “I don’t know much about weddings. You looking forward to it?”

“Of course,” John said.

“Well . . . I’m glad you’re feeling good about it,” Sherlock said. He took a sip of wine. “Are you working all week?”

John sighed, “All week, every week.”

“Even after this weekend . . . you’re doing back to work next Monday?”

"Yeah," John nodded. He heard a knock and stood. "That must be dinner. I'll go get it."

When he opened the door, the man greeted him with a question: "Who are you?"

John made a face. "I ordered the food."

"Oh. The one that tried to pay. You're with Sherlock?"

"Well, I didn't break in just to use his discount," John said annoyed.

"Easy, mate. It's just curious, him ordering for two. Enjoy!" the guy said, handing him the food.

Sherlock got up and moved to the kitchen, getting out two plates and some silverware. He topped up each of their glasses and then let John get the food out. “Smells good,” he said.

"Yeah," John nodded. "Only next time I might just pay for a different place. The employees are a bit . . . much."

“Don’t be a baby about it -- I’m a good man to know,” Sherlock said with a wink.

"I didn't say I'd stop seeing you. Just your Thai place," John said.

“There are lots of restaurants around here,” Sherlock said. “We could try another one the next time you’re here.”

"Okay," John smiled. He tucked into his food. "Though I won't deny this tastes amazing."

“Yes, it’s good,” Sherlock said. “But I think you’d think most of them are equally good.” He took a few bites. “So maybe if I work a bit on the website, I could send you a link tomorrow for your opinion.”

"Okay. If you tell me about one of your cases I could write something and send it along, just as an example for you to see."

“Would you really?” Sherlock asked. “You won’t be too busy?”

John shook his head. "I have work, but I usually have free evenings."

“That’d be brilliant,” Sherlock said. “Let me think for a moment.” He took a few bites of food and tried to pick a case John would find interesting. He told him his favourite.

John listened as Sherlock spoke, smiling at how he lit up. "Hmm . . . yes, I’ll come up with a good title for that," he said. "That's amazing, by the way."

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. “Amazing?” he said. “I think you’re exaggerating . . . you’re going to tell the truth, though, when you write, right?”

"Of course. I’ll just do it in a way that’s entertaining as well as informative," he smiled.

“All right, if you want to,” Sherlock said. “I think you have a much better idea about what will appeal to people.”

John smiled. "Hopefully you'll like it."

“I am confident I will,” Sherlock said.

They finished eating and then John noticed the time. "I should go," he said. "I enjoyed seeing you again."

“I enjoyed seeing you as well,” Sherlock said. “I’m glad you were able to come by.” He stood up. “Do you want me to get you a taxi?”

"No, I'll get one," he smiled. "I'll talk to you tomorrow again. Thanks for dinner."

“My pleasure,” Sherlock said, getting up and following John to the door. “I’ll text you when I’ve got something done on the website, all right?”

John nodded. "Okay. See you." He smiled before turning to go, glancing back up once before he stepped out. He was smiling stupidly again, moving to the kerb to hail a cab.

Sherlock shut the door and stood at it for a moment. It was incredibly right having John Watson here. He was handsome and smart and interesting and now he was going to help Sherlock drum up business. What wasn’t perfect about him?               

The fact that he was getting married in five days. That was the only non-perfect part. But Sherlock was determined to handle that. He sorted the food and dishes and then poured himself another glass of wine, which he took to his desk to start work on the website.

At home, John was feeling the day a bit heavy, but his excitement was overpowering it. He wanted to start working on Sherlock's case, so after he got ready for bed he climbed in with his laptop and started, trying to remember it all properly. He worked until he dozed without the computer in his lap.

Sherlock tried to make some of the changes John had suggested. Then he decided to check out some other websites that seemed popular and he found himself watching animals and people falling over, which he didn’t find particularly funny but which he also couldn’t stop watching. When he noticed it was almost three am, he dragged himself off to bed.

When Sherlock woke up, he showered first and then took a cup of tea to his desk, opening his laptop and bringing up his website. The changes he’d made last night were okay, but possibly not enough so he worked a little bit longer and then texted the link to John.

_Thoughts? SH_

John was finishing up his story at lunch when Sherlock's text came through. 

_I'll look now. -JW_

John leaned back to look through the website and the changes.

Sherlock moved into the kitchen, still holding his phone in his hand. He made a new cup of tea and took it and his phone to the sofa, waiting.

_It's a bit better. Still educational, but if that's what you like you should leave it as is. It's you. How do you like the story? -JW_

Sherlock opened the attachment and read over John’s work. It did make it sound more like a story, which isn’t something that Sherlock would’ve done, but perhaps that was the point. John made it seem more . . . exciting. And also amazing. Sherlock liked that bit the most.

_Excellent. I’ll upload it now. I know you’re busy but if you come up with any other suggestions for the site, let me know. I hope you’re having a good day. SH_

_I will. How's your day? -JW_

_I’ll be busy working on the site, in hopes of it meeting your approval. SH_

_You don't have to impress me. It's your site, it should represent you. -JW_

_I want to impress you. I also want more clients. SH_

_I hope the story will help. -JW_

_What time are you off work? SH_

_Around five again. -JW_

_I’ll have an update for you by then. SH_

_It might take some time for people to see it. -JW_

_If my business isn’t thriving within 24 hours, I’ll never trust you again. SH_

_I'm going to hire a hundred murderers right now, just to cover myself. -JW_

_You’ve given too much away. Now there’s no challenge. SH_

_I won't tell you when they'll kill. Or who. -JW_

Sherlock smiled to himself, imagining John at his surgery, texting about hiring hitmen. Then he got and went over to the laptop for a quick search.

_Just wait until the site’s sorted first. SH_

_I've already sent out fifty, but I'll restrain. -JW_

_Just don’t kill anyone until we speak again. Go heal someone instead. SH_

_Okay, okay. -JW_

Sherlock stared out the window for a while. His behaviour was very unusual, but that was because this was a very unusual situation. Then he got back to work on the website. He worked for a few hours more until he was interrupted by a knock at his door. Mrs Hudson let herself in and then looked around the flat. “It’s tidy in here -- what’s going on?” she asked as she moved over to put the kettle on.

“Nothing,” Sherlock said.

“Lie,” she said, coming over and getting his empty mug.

“I’m thinking about getting a flatmate,” he said.

She looked over suspiciously. “And why’s that?” she asked.

Sherlock considered his response -- he could lie and say it was for help with the rent, but Mrs Hudson usually saw through his lies. “Because I’ve met someone,” he said, hoping that answer would satisfy her.

She didn’t say anything, but just made two cups of tea which she brought over. Finally, she asked, “Who?”

“Just a man,” he said, knowing that nothing but the whole truth was going to satisfy her at this point, but trying his luck anyway.

“I see,” she said. “His name?”

Sherlock took a sip of tea. “Doctor John Watson,” he said.

“I see,” she repeated. “And what about him has made you consider asking him to live here?”

Sherlock didn’t say anything.

“Is he independently wealthy?” she asked.

“No.”

“A fellow detective?”

“No.”

“Handsome?”

Sherlock knew he’d have to answer just as quickly to keep her suspicions at bay, yet his truthful answer might misrepresent what was actually going on. Because yes, John Watson was handsome, but what was most important is that, over the last 48 hours, Sherlock had realised that he and John were destined to be together. It was a simple as that.

However, his processing all this in his head took too long and Mrs Hudson said, “So he’s handsome. You can’t be inviting every handsome man in London to move in here, Sherlock. There are quite a few, you know.”

He got up and moved to the sofa. “No, there’s not,” he said. “I’m not asking him to move in because he’s handsome, although he is.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“At his stag do,” Sherlock said.

She looked up and then took a sip of tea as she thought for a moment. “This seems quite complicated, Sherlock Holmes,” she said. “But I presume you are well aware of that. I presume you have a plan. Would you like to run it by me for approval?”


	4. Surprises

John picked up take away on his way home and settled in on the sofa, pulling his laptop close. He opened Sherlock's website and browsed through it as he ate.

_Have you looked at the site? Is it better? SH_

John smiled at Sherlock’s timing.

_I'm browsing through it now. -JW_

Sherlock had spent the rest of the day thinking. And planning. He’d just got out of the bath and was now lying on the sofa.

_I did my best to appeal to idiots without compromising myself. SH_

_I think everything still looks very smart. -JW_

_Does it look like something that would make you hire me? SH_

_It makes you sound very smart. Intelligent. A good person to have on my side. It shows off your talents very well. But it just doesn't tell me exactly what you do. I can see you as an accomplished scientist but not a detective. -JW_

_Well, unless you’re prepared to write up every one of my cases, I may have to give up. I’m not sure I can make it like you suggest. SH_

_Really? Did you like the story? -JW_

_I trust you or I wouldn’t have put it on the site. SH_

_I wouldn't mind writing more. -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_That would be brilliant. Perhaps we could meet again when you’ve got time. There’s no rush. SH_

_That would be great. -JW_

_Thank you. What are you doing for the rest of the night? SH_

_Just relaxing. You? -JW_

Sherlock thought for a moment. ‘Just relaxing’ was not a phrase he’d ever use to describe this own behaviour.

_Reading. SH_

_Oh? What are you reading? -JW_

_A chemistry journal. Not very interesting to most, I know, but I think we’ve established I stand out. SH_

_Yes. That's not a bad thing. -JW_

Sherlock smiled again. This was definitely flirting. If he weren’t so entirely certain he’d be able to change John’s mind before the wedding, he might actually be annoyed about John’s flirtation. But he was certain he’d sort things, so he decided to just enjoy himself, which was something he was surprised to be doing these last few days.

_Not a bad thing is not the same as a good thing, of course. SH_

_It's a great thing. Amazing, really. -JW_

_Don’t exaggerate. Unless you really must, obviously. SH_

John chuckled.

_I don't think you mind that much. -JW_

_Perhaps I don’t. Generally the words used to describe me are not quite so flattering. I can’t help but be suspicious -- perhaps you’re trying to get something out of me. Free detective work? Free food? Hard to tell. SH_

_I've got two meals out of you already. Mind you, I'm offering free advertisement so we're even. -JW_

_We’re not -- you’ve giving me help, PR, and flattery. What am I offering you? SH_

_I thought we just agreed -- free food and free detective work? -JW_

_All right -- we’ve got three more options for free meals. Do you have a case in mind right now or are you just keeping the free detective work in your pocket until something comes up? SH_

_I think I'll hold onto it for now. -JW_

_Just let me know. I’m always available. SH_

_Okay. I'll see what free time I have after the wedding. -JW_

Sherlock stared at the message. He certainly didn’t want to be reminded of the wedding, let alone be told John may not have time for him anymore after it. He thought carefully about how to word his reply, but then gave up and sent _Okay_ before dropping his phone on the sofa and getting up to grab a cigarette.

_I'm excited to hear more about your cases. -JW_

Sherlock heard his phone buzz as he took a long inhale on his cigarette. Was this stupid? Mrs Hudson pretty much said it was. She said she trusted him to do what was right. He was sure this was right. It wasn’t lust or boredom or just because he liked a challenge. Sherlock knew this was right. He got up and grabbed his phone.

_I look forward to sharing them. I’m going to go do a little research now. Maybe talk tomorrow? SH_

_That sounds good. -JW_

Sherlock went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but instead decided to have a glass of wine. He took it to the sofa and looked around the flat, imagining John living here. It would take a little bit of adjustment, but when the universe tells you something, you’d do well to listen.

After putting his phone away John started getting ready for bed. He had to work again tomorrow, but he hoped there would be some time to see Sherlock. The wedding was coming up soon and once that was over he would have more free time, especially on the weekends even if he did work through the week. The thought made him smile -- he was glad they had met up again after that night at the bar. He set his alarm and settled down to bed, falling asleep easily. In the morning John made himself a quick breakfast and left, walking to work. 

Sherlock hadn’t actually gone to bed until early in the morning so he slept later than he’d intended. He got up and went out first, grabbing a newspaper and dropping off a pastry for Mrs Hudson.

“You’re being generous,” she said with a smile.

“I don’t know why you sound surprised,” he said as he headed upstairs.

At the office John started seeing a steady stream of patients, but it wasn't packed and it was the best day of the work week so far. 

After reading the paper, Sherlock looked over his website. It had received ten hits in the last two days, which was double what he normally got in a fortnight. Maybe he might get a client from it after all. He got up and got lost in thought on the sofa for a bit before coming back to the day. He checked his watch and went to take a shower.

John left for lunch feeling good about the day. He ate on a bench near the entrance of the park and considered lingering a bit longer, but he decided not to. If they could get the majority of the patients out they could leave early. He walked into a full lobby, not thinking much of it until he walked his fourth patient out and it was still packed. And people were still filing in.

Sherlock checked himself one more time in the mirror and then headed out onto the street and took a taxi to a park where he had a cigarette and began making his way to the surgery.

John didn't have a chance to sit down, not even for one minute. He felt he jinxed himself getting too excited about the slow morning. When the lobby was starting to clear John rallied himself for a second wind, finishing his waiting patients and sinking into his chair for the first time in hours. He looked across his desk at all the files he'd neglected as he worked. He would deal with those later. He grabbed his coat and left, pausing as he almost bumped into someone outside.

"Sorry -- oh! Hi Sherlock," John said.

“Hello, John,” Sherlock said. “Fancy seeing you here,” he added with a smile.

John smiled. "What are you up to?"

“Just wandering,” Sherlock asked. “How was your day?”  
  
John sighed heavily. "Too busy, it was a madhouse."

“Shame,” Sherlock said. “Shall I take you to dinner to reward you for surviving?”

John smiled. "I knew you were up to something," he teased. "That sounds nice."

“I am up to nothing,” Sherlock said. “What do you feel like eating -- we can even go somewhere that charges me if it takes your fancy.”

“The Italian place again?” John suggested. “Free food and all.”

“All right then,” Sherlock said and raised his hand for a taxi. He held the door open for John and then got in and gave the driver the address.

John glanced over at Sherlock again. "This was a nice surprise," he said. 

Sherlock smiled back. “Well, I’m afraid I do have an ulterior motive,” he confessed.

"Oh?" John asked, his body warming at the words. He mentally shook himself and tried to keep his face neutral and normal. 

Sherlock turned his head toward the window and stared out. As they pulled up, he said, “Come on, I’ll tell you at dinner.” He gave the driver some money and got out.

John followed him out and into the restaurant, taking a deep breath and smiling at the delicious smells. 

Sherlock nodded to Angelo and took his regular table. “Wine?” he asked John.

John nodded. "Yes, that sounds perfect."

Angelo disappeared and then returned, pouring them each a glass. “We’ll have our usual,” Sherlock told him. Once he was gone, he looked over at John and said, “I’ve got a proposal for you.”

"Okay, shoot," John said.

“I’ve got a new case,” Sherlock lied. “Before you get all cocky, it didn’t come from the website -- though it has had more hits than usual, so I will give you that.” He took a sip of wine and continued. “I’m quite knowledgeable about many things related to the body; however, I am not a medical doctor.” He looked over. “You, on the other hand, are. I was hoping you might be willing to . . . work with me.”

"Really? Would it cut into my job at the surgery?" John shook his head at his comment. "I really want to, it sounds amazing."

“It wouldn’t at the moment,” Sherlock said honestly. “Of course, if your suggestions start drawing in the public . . .  perhaps I’ll need you all the time. But for now, I’m prepared to work around your situation.”

"Oh. Well, okay. As long as it's not this weekend obviously."

“Right,” Sherlock said. He took a sip of wine.  “What about if there’s danger? You’d still be okay with that?”

John nodded. "It'll add excitement," he smiled.

“Good,” Sherlock said. “I just don’t want to cause any problems for you. . .”

"Problems? No, there shouldn't be. I can balance work," he assured Sherlock.

“Excellent,” Sherlock said. Angelo came over and took their orders and then disappeared again. “Why was work so stressful?” he asked John.

"It was just very busy. No one thinks you spend enough time with them, they complain," he shrugged. "I know it’s part of the job."

“I don’t think I could tolerate that,” Sherlock said. “You’re quite personable, which is not a word that describes me.”

John smiled. "I prefer trauma surgery, but that's not possible anymore so I've learned to make do." 

Sherlock glanced down. “I’m sure you excel at all you do,” he said. “You’re . . . different,” he added, which wasn’t quite the right word, though it fit.

John watched his face for a moment before mixing his food a bit. "You too," he said.

“I know,” Sherlock said. He took a bite of food and then looked out the window for a few minutes. He saw someone he recognised. “Let me test you,” he said. “Like a job interview. See the guy in the grey coat? What’s he guilty of?”

John looked out at the man, tilting his head. He didn't really see anything odd. "Um . . . has he stolen something?"

“You don’t think it might be something worse?” Sherlock asked. “Watch how he leans to one side.”

John looked out again. "Hmm... I'm not sure. I see him leaning to the right . . ."

“Excellent observation,” Sherlock said. “Know what that means?”

John shook his head, looking at Sherlock now.

“He voted for UKIP,” Sherlock said then felt his face flush. “Sorry -- I was trying to make a joke . . . that’s not my strong point either.”

John smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t say anything,” Sherlock said. “Your food all right? This is supposed to be a reward for a hard day’s work. Do you feel rewarded?”

John smiled. "I do, thank you."

“Good,” Sherlock said. “What time will you be going to bed tonight?”

"I'm not sure exactly," John smiled. "Why?"

Sherlock thought for a moment why he’d asked that, and then realised he didn’t really have an answer. “I just don’t want to keep you from a good night’s rest,” he said. “What with work and the wedding coming up and all.”

John nodded, mixing the last of his food around. "Do you want to come? To the wedding, I mean?" he said the words quickly, only glancing at Sherlock.

Sherlock coughed a little and took a drink. “I--” he started but what precisely could he say? “I’m -- I’m not very good at those kind of things,” he said.

"I know it's sudden . . . it’s okay," John said quickly.

Sherlock thought about the word ‘sudden’ -- Mrs Hudson had used it when he told her he’d already decided that he wanted John to move into Baker Street. He wondered if this was the moment he should tell John as well. “I just think . . .” he tried to say, but he couldn’t make the words come out.

John shook his head. "Don't worry. Listen, I have the rehearsal dinner Friday, so I won't be able to see you but maybe after the weekend?" 

“Right,” Sherlock said. “I’m sorry if I’ve been harassing you.”

John’s brow crinkled. “You haven’t been,” he said awkwardly.

Sherlock took a bite of food, but it seemed like he should say something. “So,” he said, hoping to change the conversation. “Is this better than what you’d have been doing if I hadn’t accosted you at the surgery?”

John nodded. "I'd have been at home debating if I wanted to cook or get take out."

“You seem quite focused on food,” Sherlock said with a smile. “Is that all you do with your free time?" 

John grinned. "No. That's just always the time you're asking me about."

“Fair enough,” Sherlock said. “Let’s say . . . two months ago . . . it’s a Saturday, you don’t work, and you’ve got the whole day to yourself. How do you spend it?”

“If it's nice I'm going to be out doors. I might arrange a rugby game with old friends to catch up."

“Interesting,” Sherlock said. “You’re quite interesting.”

Angelo came over to check on them. “Want dessert?” Sherlock asked.

"Um, let's take a walk and get some ice cream," John said.

Yet another surprising thing Sherlock was going to willingly do. “All right then,” he said. He turned to Angelo and said, “As always, everything was delicious.” He moved to get his wallet, but Angelo shook his head, so Sherlock stood up and led John out to the street. “Do you have a specific place in mind?” he asked.

John shook his head. "But I'm sure we'll find something."

They walked for a few minutes. At one point, Sherlock felt compelled to reach over and grab John’s hand, but then he remembered that, as far as John was concerned, they were two new mates. He stuck his hands into his pockets.

John caught the movement and moved a bit closer. "Are you cold?" He asked, looping his arm through Sherlock's so they were pressed together.

God, this was torture, Sherlock thought. “I’m all right,” he said, but didn’t pull away. He glanced up. “I think that place up there might have something you’d like,” he added, motioning with his head.

"Okay. This will be my treat, okay?" John smiled.

“If you insist,” Sherlock said. “Though I’m not the one who’s had a difficult day . . .”

"Mine is ending well," John countered.

Sherlock followed John to the front, deciding to order whatever John ordered, hoping it was quite small.

 “Thank you,” he said, taking the cone from John. “I’m glad we bumped into each other today,” he said.

"Yes,” John said. “It was quite a coincidence.”

They headed out. Sherlock tried to eat as much as he could, though he could feel it sitting uncomfortably in his stomach.

John was enjoying the slow walk as they ate. "I got you the smallest one, but don't feel obligated," he smiled.

“I’m fine,” Sherlock said. He looked at the cone. “I think I’ve finished actually,” he said. “Do you want me to see if I can return the rest to get some of your money back?”

John laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll be pleased," he said. "We'll be banned."

Sherlock held his cone out to John. “I’m done,” he said. “But you paid for it so if you eat the rest of it, everything will work out fine.”

"No, mine's enough. I don't mind if you throw it away," he said. 

“All right,” Sherlock stepped over to a bin and dropped the remainder of his cone in. “Should I get you a taxi?” he asked John.

"Um, okay," he nodded. "I had a really good time," he added.

“I did as well,” Sherlock said. “The next time you have a busy day at work -- let me know.”

"I will," John smiled. He stepped closer, then chickened out when Sherlock looked at the ground. He moved back and just pat his arm. "See you soon, yeah?"

“I’d like that,” Sherlock said. The taxi pulled up and Sherlock opened the door for him. “Enjoy the rest of the evening and . . . have a good weekend,” he said.

"You too," John said, getting into the cab and looking at Sherlock out of the window until the cab was pulling off towards his flat.

Sherlock watched him go and then headed home. He needed to speak to Mrs Hudson.


	5. A Break

Sherlock woke up around noon, although he’d only fallen asleep a few hours before. His head hurt, and he was in a bad mood. He dragged himself straight into the shower to wake up properly and then took a cup of tea to the sofa to think. But his phone rang before he got a chance.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, Molly, you rang my number, who else would it be?”

“Don’t be like that,” she said. “I don’t think I should go on that date tomorrow.”

Sherlock sighed. He did not feel like dealing with this right now. He knew she needed reassurance, but at the moment, he had a headache and too much to think about. But Molly was his friend. He let her talk herself back into going, and she seemed grateful for the talk even though he hadn’t said a word the entire time. He got up and refreshed his tea and then sat down again to think.

Mrs Hudson had made her case quite clear last night: this was just a bit of bad timing and Sherlock was much off focusing on his work and perhaps one day meeting someone who was equally interested in him, or at the very least, someone who was not days away from committing their entire lives to someone else. She had pointed out that Sherlock was an interesting person (which he knew was her code word for ‘strange’) and it wasn’t fair to totally disrupt the life of someone who just a week ago was a total stranger. Especially, she’d pointed out, since he was unable to provide any concrete evidence to prove he and John belonged together. To do so, she’d said, would be incredibly selfish and also a bit foolish.

He realised that Mrs Hudson had made some excellent points. However, he also knew that he intended to disregard them completely. Sherlock Holmes was a selfish man; that was true. And while in most circumstances, he’d hate being called foolish, this time it didn’t bother him at all. Because he knew he was right. And he knew as soon as he could prove that, Mrs Hudson would take that comment back.

And if by any slim chance he was wrong (which he was sure he was not) . . . well, then he’d know for sure and Mrs Hudson could call him a fool for the rest of her life, but at least he would’ve tried. He finished his cup of tea. He knew what he had to do.


	6. The Rehearsal Dinner

John got into his suit and took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in place before heading out. He took a cab and met up with the group from the night of the stag do -- they were sharing stories about that night and laughing at each other while they waited for everyone invited to arrive.

Slowly they made their way inside and found their tables. The future newlyweds were finishing up the rehearsal at the church and would be arriving shortly. John had only just started his wine when they came in, both smiling, and took their seats. A man began explaining things, and then soon they were eating.

Sherlock checked himself in the mirror and grabbed a cab to a few blocks away from the hall. He smoked a cigarette as he walked the rest of the way. He went inside and followed the sounds to a large room, looking inside to find John. He did, though he was surprised that John was not at the main table. He took a step inside. “John Watson,” he called in a loud voice.

The best man, in the middle of his speech, paused and looked at Sherlock. Then the whole room turned to look at John, who stood up, face slightly flushed. "How --? What are you doing here?"

“It would be a mistake to get married,” Sherlock said. “I don’t know much about your past and I know nothing about your relationship; however, I do know that it would be a mistake for you to get married.” He took a short breath. “I should have pointed this out earlier and avoided…,” he glanced around the room, but it was like he couldn’t see anyone’s face but John’s. “. . . this, but I didn’t. Obviously. However, I am telling you now: do not get married. You . . . should be with me.”

John blinked at Sherlock. He glanced around the room before finally stepping away from his table. "I'm not--” he started. “Sherlock, my friend is getting married." He pointed at the head table where they were sitting, grinning stupidly.

Sherlock swallowed roughly. “But you . . .? You are supposed to be getting married tomorrow. You said so,” he said, but then began to think back to that night in the bar. He’d said so, hadn’t he?

John shook his head. "I definitely did not say I was getting married," he said. “I’ve been going out with you all week! I wouldn't have done that if I was taken -- that would be awful."

Sherlock thought for a moment. “Then why . . . why am I doing this?” he asked stupidly.

John started to smile. "I don't know," he said. "But it's very . . . romantic." He smiled wider. Suddenly someone was tapping on their glass. John turned to find the real groom doing it. Then everyone joined in. John looked at Sherlock and moved closer to him. 

Sherlock knew there were other people in the room but he wasn’t seeing anyone but John who was coming toward him. When John was standing right in front of him, Sherlock looked down at his face and then kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’m sorry I got it all wrong,” he whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he said. "You came to fight for me -- that's sweet." He took Sherlock's hand and brought him over to the table to sit with him, apologising and motioning to the best man to continue with what he was saying. "It's almost done," he whispered to Sherlock.

Sherlock followed him and sat down, looking at everyone. He was still too busy processing things to feel embarrassed. John took his hand under the table, smiling over at him. He looked adorably confused.

Sherlock leaned close and whispered, “I don’t know any of these people. I don’t even recognise the men from the pub.”

"They're spread all over, except the best man and the groom," John said, pointing to each one. "Did you not want to come to the wedding because you thought it was mine?"

“Obviously,” Sherlock said, blushing a little now.

John squeezed his hand. "Will you come with me, then? Tomorrow?"

“Maybe,” Sherlock said. He stared down at the table. “Do we have to stay here all night?”

""No. It'll be done in a few minutes," he said. "Want to come back to mine?"

“Yes, please,” Sherlock said.

John squeezed his hand again. A few minutes later the night was over and everyone was talking in small groups and shuffling out. John smiled up at Sherlock. "Ready to go?"

“Yes, please,” Sherlock repeated. 

John said his goodbyes and led Sherlock out. "It's not far but I'm going to get a cab," he said, going to the kerb to flag one down.

Sherlock grabbed John’s hand as they sat in the car. He had quite a few things to say, but after the scene he made at the hall, he thought it’d be better to wait until they got to John’s place.

"I'm glad you came to find me," he said. He looked over at Sherlock as the cab arrived.

“I am as well,” Sherlock said. “Though I suppose my misunderstanding does not make me appear a very good detective, does it?”

John let them both into his flat and looked over his shoulder. "It was loud at the bar," he smiled. "Just a misunderstanding."

“Still,” Sherlock said, looking around the room as John moved to the kettle. “All I do well is figure things out but I failed with you. I was so certain of some things that I failed to see others.”

"That was because you didn't have the correct information. It was a misunderstanding," John said as he came back with tea.

“But I should have had the correct information,” Sherlock said. He thought for a moment. “I had been drinking that first night . . . yet I was able to see other things so clearly.”

"Like what?" he asked.

“That we were meant to be together,” Sherlock said as if it were plain as day.

John's brows rose slightly. "Oh," he murmured.

“I was so focused on that, on you . . . I didn’t pay attention to the other things I needed to know,” Sherlock said, as if things were slowly making sense of him.

"You feel . . . I mean, you know that already?" John asked.

“Obviously,” Sherlock said. He looked over. “I wouldn’t have made an idiot of myself in public if I hadn’t been sure.”

"How do you know?" John asked.

“Because you--” Sherlock started, but he knew he’d already tried to put this into words once with Mrs Hudson and had failed miserably. “Because I know,” he said. “There are some things about which I know nothing, but the things I know . . . I know. And I know we were meant to be together.”

John blinked at him. "I don't know what to say,” John said. "I know that I like you a lot. I like seeing you every day."

“If you lived at Baker Street, it’d be much easier,” Sherlock said.

"Baker Street?" John asked. "Where you live, right?"

‘Yes,” Sherlock answered. “You could live there, too.”

"I . . . isn't it too soon? I mean, we've only known each other a week, you know?" John stuttered.

“If it was too soon for me, I would not be inviting you,” Sherlock said. “Is it too soon for you?”

John sipped his tea and shrugged his shoulders. "So what about the wedding? You'll come?" he asked instead.

“Yes, as long as long as none of the people who saw my spectacle tonight are going to be there,” Sherlock said.

"I can't promise, but maybe none will show." John took another sip and set his mug down. "Can I kiss you again?"

“Yes, please,” Sherlock said, moving a little closer to John on the sofa.

John touched his cheek as he leaned up and kissed him properly. Sherlock leaned into the kiss as he took in John’s smell and his taste. John flicked his tongue out, tracing Sherlock's lip and pressing in when Sherlock let him. His hand tangled into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock leaned further, pushing John against the back of the sofa. “I told you,” he mumbled into the kiss.

John tugged Sherlock closer to him and kissed him harder. "Told me what?"

“That this was supposed to happen,” he said. 

John grinned into the kiss and pressed up harder.

“What do you want to do?” Sherlock asked, looking down at John’s face.

John held Sherlock's heated gaze, letting his hand slide down Sherlock's front and palm his cock through his trousers. Sherlock exhaled a soft moan then shifted his body off of John. He pulled them both flat onto the sofa, facing each other, and then let his hand roan down the side of John’s body to his hip and then moved to unbutton John’s trousers, leaning in to kiss him as he did. John moaned softly as he pushed his hips up, then settled them down to let Sherlock work while his own hand copied the action.

Sherlock slipped his hand inside, pressing against the material of John’s pants. Then he reached to shift John’s trousers past his hips to give himself more room before reaching in to wrap his long fingers around John’s warm, hard cock. He made a soft noise and then began a slow stroke.

A groan built in John's throat and he released it with a deep sigh of pleasure, his hand still pushing fabrics out of his way to get to Sherlock's cock. "Fuck..." He moaned softly, matching his stroke to Sherlock's.

“John,” Sherlock called out, almost in a panic. It’d been a long time since he’d been touched there like that. “Please…” he mumbled stupidly, already feeling himself moving closer to the edge.

John only nodded against Sherlock's cheek, finding his mouth and kissing him hard. He bucked slightly, his thumb swiping the tip of Sherlock's cock so he could move it a bit faster.

Sherlock reached for John’s kiss as his hand collided with the movement between their two bodies. “It’s good . . .” he said as if offering an apology in advance for why he couldn’t last long.

John nodded, kissing along Sherlock's jaw line and back up to his mouth again. His body was burning as everything built and tightly coiled. "Close . . ." he mumbled.

“Me --“ Sherlock started but suddenly his hips were jerking as he came, still trying to stroke John but finding it hard to think or react.

John gasped softly and watched Sherlock's handsome face lost in pleasure before he followed after him, squeezing his eyes shut as he came.

Sherlock dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. He felt . . . overwhelmed really. Good, of course, but also extremely overwhelmed by the fact that he’d met John, the person he was supposed to be with.

John pressed soft kisses along Sherlock's jaw. "That was really good," he said.

“It was,” Sherlock said, still struggling a bit with his breath. “It can always be that way now.”

John remembered Sherlock's announcement of them belonging together. He shifted and met Sherlock's gaze. "Want a drink?"

Sherlock sat up and looked at his hand. “Yes, please,” he said. “And a towel?”

John nodded. "I'll put one in the bathroom for you, yeah?" He found a cloth and, after cleaning himself went into the kitchen and poured them each a glass of wine.

Sherlock went into the bathroom and cleaned himself up, splashing some water on his flushed face. He took a deep breath and met John back on the sofa. “Thanks,” he said as he took the wine.

John sipped his wine and tried to think of something to talk about. "Um, I'll come by your flat to pick you up tomorrow."

“When?” Sherlock said, forgetting for a moment about the wedding. “Right, I mean, what time?” He took a sip of his wine and started to relax a little.

"The wedding starts at four, I'll come around three," he said.

“All right,” Sherlock said. He took another sip of wine. “What will I . . . have to do?” he asked.

"Just come with me. We'll eat and dance a little," he smiled.

Sherlock thought carefully. “Will there be alcohol?” he asked.

John laughed. "Of course!"

“That should help,” Sherlock said. “As you might have guessed after tonight, I don’t really excel at social events.”

"You'll be fine," John said. "Just stick close to me."

Sherlock shifted a little closer to him on the sofa. “I can probably do that,” he said, dropping a hand onto John’s thigh.

"Good," John said tracing small circles on Sherlock's hand.

They talked more comfortably as they finished their wine. Then Sherlock set his glass down and said, “Perhaps I should get going. You’ll ring me if anything changes, right?”

John nodded, standing to walk him out. "I'll text you before I leave my flat."

Sherlock grabbed his coat but turned before leaving. He kissed John hard on the mouth and then smiled. “See you tomorrow,” he said as he headed out.

"See you," John said.

Sherlock caught a taxi back to Baker Street. He stopped at Mrs Hudson’s.

“What have you done?” she asked when she opened the door.

“I wanted to clarify something,” he said. “When we were speaking the other day about my new flatmate . . .”

“Is he moving in?” she interrupted.

“No,” he said. “I mean, yes, I’m sure he will, but a date has not yet been decided. Anyway, I think you might have got the impression that he was engaged to be married, and I just wanted to clarify that he is not.”

“I got that impression,” she said. “Because you told me he was.”

“Yes, I can see where you might have thought that that was what I told you, but as I said, he is not getting married tomorrow at four o’clock. Rather he is just attending a wedding and I shall be going with him. I just wanted to clear that up for you,” he said as he turned to head upstairs.

Mrs Hudson watched him go. She hoped that whatever he had got himself into would not end up with his being hurt.


	7. The Wedding

In the morning John started getting ready for the day, taking a shower and shaving and fussing his hair for too long.

When he was ready, he texted Sherlock that he was heading down to get a cab.

Sherlock was standing looking in the mirror. He had changed his clothes three times but John’s text meant he no longer had time to change again. He smoked a quick cigarette and then brushed his teeth, heading downstairs to wait for John.

John gave the cab Sherlock's address, tapping his fingers on his thigh as they pulled up to Sherlock's flat. He looked amazing.

Sherlock stepped to the kerb. “Is this right?” he asked as he opened the door.

"You look amazing," John said.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said. He wondered if it would be all right to kiss John. Instead, he added, “You look quite smart.”

John smiled and took his hand. "Thank you."

“I feel about sick,” Sherlock admitted.

"What? Oh no," John said. "Do you want to go back home?"

“No,” he said. “I just don’t know what today will be like and I prefer being prepared.”

"It's all about the couple, we'll just be background noise.”

“That can’t be true,” Sherlock said. “You’re . . . you’ll have to talk people, I mean.”

"Just a few. I know the groom and a few others."

Sherlock pulled a face. “You are a popular man -- people will talk to you,” he scolded. “I am not very good at . . . talking to people.”

"I'll do all the talking, don't worry. Just stand close and be handsome. Easy."

Sherlock’s face went warm. “I can manage standing close,” he said.

John squeezed his hand lightly. The cab pulled up so the chapel and John paid, leading the way inside for a seat. Sherlock stayed close, enjoying the feeling and hoping his interactions with others would be minimal, even though he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be the case, despite what John said.

They watched people file in and take their seats as the soft music played. The men took their places in the front and the music changed. Bridesmaids started their walk and then they all stood for the bride. "This will be the longest part," John whispered.

Sherlock liked the feel of John’s breath on his ear. He leaned in and whispered back, “I’m going to sit here and think about what happened last night.” He closed his eyes for a second and smiled wickedly.

John leaned up very quickly and nipped at Sherlock's ear lobe. "I can't stop thinking about it," he said.

“Good,” Sherlock said. “I hope you’ll be thinking about the other thing as well.”

John looked at him confused, but then the service started. Sherlock watched what was happening around him, but then he did disappear into his head a little. He thought about last night when he and John kissed and touched each other. However, that triggered a tension low in his body, which he knew would not help keep people’s attention away from him. So instead he thought about John living at Baker Street, how nice it would be to have John around him all the time.

When the ceremony was over, John took Sherlock's hand. "We can head to the reception hall now."

“All right,” Sherlock said, following him. “Will there be drink there?”

"Yes, we can start drinking. And hors d'oeuvres." 

“Good,” Sherlock said. “How far is it? Can we walk?”

"No, we'll need to take a cab," John said.

“Well . . . do you mind if we walk for a few minutes?” he asked. “I’d like to have a cigarette,” he explained.

"Oh sure," John nodded.

They started walking away from the church and once they were clear of that crowd, Sherlock pulled out his pack and offered one to John, even though he was certain he wouldn’t take it. He was right. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag. “How do you know the groom?” he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, we were at university together. We haven't talked in a long time but when weddings come around everyone reconnects," John explained

“And the woman? Did you know her?” Sherlock asked.

"No, I never met her before," John said. 

“They’ll be divorced within two years,” Sherlock said, inhaling deeply and glancing up at the sky as he exhaled.

"What? Don't say that," John said, nudging his arm lightly. 

“It’s true, though,” Sherlock said. “I know these things.” He threw his cigarette down. “I’m not having fun, but thanks for inviting me.”

"You're very honest," John said. He looked at Sherlock as if considering him. "I like it."

“Good,” Sherlock said. “I like being with you,” he added because that was honest as well.

John smiled and took his hand. "Ready to go to the hall?"

Sherlock nodded and looked up into the street, as he lifted his hand for a taxi.

John climbed in with him, giving the address to the hall. "Do you like dancing?" 

“Yes,” Sherlock said, deciding to stick to honesty. “Do you?”

"Me too," John said. "I'm not good," he added. "But I like dancing."

“I’m quite good,” Sherlock said. “I can help you.” He turned and looked out the window. He imagined them dancing in the flat and a small smile came to his lips.

John looked over at him and smiled. "Are you teasing me?" he asked. 

“No,” Sherlock said, looking over. “I would estimate you probably are quite good at dancing. However, if you’re not, I can help.” He swallowed. “And also, I won’t mind if you are bad -- I would just like to dance with you.”

John smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "You're sweet."

“That’s what I keep telling my landlady,” Sherlock said. “But she keeps saying otherwise. You’ll have to tell her.”

John chuckled and nodded. "Will she believe me?" he teased. 

“She will -- she knows I don’t trust many people, and if I trust you that means you can be believed. Even if she can’t see it with her own eyes.”

John smiled. "I'm honored," he said. The cab arrived to the hall and John paid the fare. 

Sherlock looked over at the building and the people starting to file in. He really didn’t want to face this, but if it meant being beside John, it was worth it. “Let’s go,” he said, leading the way.

John tugged him back a bit and held his hand closer. "There's no rush. We don't have to mingle too much either, so we can just keep it me and you for a bit."

“I’d prefer that,” Sherlock said. “What are we going to do then?”

"We'll get a drink and find a quiet corner until we have to take our seat."

“All right then,” Sherlock said with a small smile. “Lead the way.”

John took Sherlock to the bar and ordered a couple glasses of wine, leading the way into the corner. Sherlock looked around the room. He didn’t recognise anyone from the church but in truth, he hadn’t really been looking at the people. He took a sip of wine and said, “I am glad I don’t have to go weddings often. No one seems to be enjoying themselves.”

"The day is mostly for the couple," John agreed. "That's why they give you a plus one so you can have someone to enjoy."

“I’m enjoying you,” Sherlock said. “Are you enjoying me?”

"Very much," John smiled. He leaned up and kissed him lightly. 

Sherlock gripped John’s lapel, holding the kiss a little longer. “Good,” he said as he pulled back and took a sip of wine. He turned to the face the room again. “Would you like me to tell how many of these couples will have broken up by the end of the year?”

"No," John said. "Tell me happy things.”. 

Sherlock looked around the room. “I don’t see much,” he said. “To be honest, happy things aren’t really my specialty.”

"Isn't your specialty facts?" he teased.

“I suppose,” Sherlock said. He looked around again. “Fine, the woman in ugly hat is happy because there’s free drink.” He pulled a smug face.

John rolled his eyes but smiled wider. "There, see? That wasn't so hard."

“What do you see, then?” Sherlock asked.

John looked around the room and found another couple sitting close. John pointed them out. "They look happy."

“And what makes them happy?”

"Each other. They can't stop looking at each other," he said. 

“Maybe they just like shagging,” Sherlock suggested. “Is that how you define happiness?”

"No. Well, not only that," John smiled. 

Sherlock turned to face John. “What else makes you happy?” he asked.

"A good book . . . a good cup of tea . . . a warm jumper . . ." He listed each thing slowly, tilting his head at Sherlock. "I know I'm forgetting one…" he teased. 

“You mean shagging?

"You, idiot," John said. "You make me happy."

“How?” Sherlock asked. “So far you have helped me but I’ve done . . . nothing for you.”

"What? Don't be silly. You get free food all over town," John smiled. He moved a little closer. "But seriously, Sherlock. I have a good time with you, I like you a lot. You're smart and handsome. And funny sometimes."

“-- don’t expect me to maintain being funny,” Sherlock interrupted.

John smiled. "I'll pick up the slack," he said. “I have loved every minute we’ve been together -- I enjoyed every night this week, except Thursday when I didn’t see you.”

Sherlock smiled and then said quietly, “What if I let you down, John? I don’t intend to, but I’m not skilled at this. What if I let you down?”

"Shh," John said, taking his hand again. "Come on. Let's go sit down while you tell me about what dances you know."

Sherlock followed him to the table. He noticed that John recognised some of the people, and he wondered which one of the men had been at the pub that first night. None of their faces registered. They took their seats and waited with their drinks. Finally, the couple was announced with music playing and cheers, then they took their seats for dinner.

"It's just speeches, special dances, and the cake. Then we can dance."

Sherlock glanced around and was pleased when he saw people coming out to fill wine glasses. “What food am I getting?” he said to John.

"You can pick," John said, showing Sherlock the card. "They are very fancy," he smiled. 

“What are you getting?” Sherlock asked.

"The steak, I think. Maybe you'll like the salmon? It's a little lighter."

“I’ll try it,” Sherlock said. “I like asparagus,” he added. He didn’t want to ruin this night for John and hoped that detail would help.

John smiled and placed his order as the woman came around the table. "I appreciate you coming with me."

“Well, I would’ve end up coming anyway -- this is better than I’d expected it to be,” Sherlock said. “I’m glad it wasn’t you getting married -- for a variety of reasons. But it wouldn’t have stopped me,” he added. “I know when things are right.”

John smiled. "I know. You're very smart."

The food came and Sherlock picked up his fork and ate a piece of asparagus. He watched John chat to the others at the table. Time seemed to be moving slowly, but he was doing his best to be patient.

John ate his meal and chatted politely with everyone at the table. When the food was taken away again the maid of honor and the best man gave their speeches. John took Sherlock's hand under the table and laced their fingers. When the speeches were over, the couple went up for their first dance. "Almost time for us to dance," he told Sherlock. 

“Good,” Sherlock said. “Don’t be afraid,” he added, though his voice sounded a little strange in his head. Perhaps the wine was having an effect, but regardless, he was feeling a bit more relaxed about being at the reception.

Before long the dance floor was open for everyone. "Do you do fast dances?" John asked.

“I prefer slower,” Sherlock said. For some reason, the comment made him blush. 

John smiled. "I look like a fool fast dancing. I'd need several drinks before I attempted it."

“We can concentrate on the slow ones,” Sherlock said. “Though you should feel to drink if you’d like . . . you were a bit drunk when I met you and that didn’t put me off.”

"I'll have a little bit, but I don't want to be drunk," he smiled.

Sherlock set his glass down. “Should I stop drinking then?” he asked.

"Of course not," he said. "We should have fun."

John stood at the first slow dance they played. "Show me what you've got," he said

Sherlock took John’s hand and stood up. He could definitely feel the effects of the wine, but not enough to distract him. They moved to the dancefloor and he pulled John close. “Follow me,” he said as he began to move.

John pressed close and followed his steps, looking down at their feet.

“No,” Sherlock said. “Look at me. Listen to the music. Move with me.”

John looked up and fumbled a bit, biting his lip as he tried to follow.

Sherlock slowed them down so their bodies were barely moving. He leaned his head down so his mouth was next to John’s ear. “There’s no one here but us,” he whispered. “Just think about us.” He let his lips brush lightly against John’s skin. John closed his eyes for a moment, his body warm with Sherlock's breath so close. He started moving a little easier.

“That’s good,” Sherlock said, letting them sway a little more. It felt good being this close. He wished it really was just them.

"It’s not as hard as I thought," John murmured, holding Sherlock's gaze. 

“It’s simple with us,” Sherlock said.

"I like that," he nodded.

The next song was slow as well, so Sherlock held John close, moving them a little bit around the dancefloor. He was enjoying himself -- he had managed to erase everyone else in the room. Once again, this was evidence that he’d been right. This was meant to be.

John was just getting lost in the dance when the music changed to something faster. John looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "Drink?

“All right,” Sherlock said. As they made their way to the bar, he added, “I was very impressed with your footwork.”

John laughed lightly. "Thank you, I had an excellent teacher."

“Wine?” Sherlock asked. “Or should we have an after dinner whiskey?”

"Hmm, after dinner whiskey," he nodded.

Sherlock nodded to the bartender and then handed John a glass. “To the rest of the evening,” he said, lifting his glass.

John smiled and tapped the glass before taking a long sip.

As they were enjoying their drinks, a few men came up to speak to John. They began laughing, and Sherlock stood there quite awkwardly, though he did enjoy seeing John’s smile. John made polite conversation and laughed about the stag night, holding Sherlock's hand to hold him close. Once Sherlock realized what they were speaking about, he scrutinized the men’s faces, trying to remember them, but nothing was registering. He squeezed John’s hand and then stepped away to move to the bar.

Sherlock returned carrying two glasses. “Sorry . . . I didn’t know what you were drinking,” he said, glancing up at the men and then burying his face in his glass.

"This is perfect," John said. When the song changed to another slow one, John excused the both of them and finished his drink. "Let's dance again."  
Sherlock set down his glass and followed John to the dancefloor.

"Can I show you what I've learned?"

“Please do,” Sherlock said with a wide grin.

John pinched him for laughing. "Just follow," he said, leading the next dance.

Sherlock stepped close and watched John’s face, still smiling. “You’re not going to try something complicated just to impress your friends, are you?”

"No. I don't want to look foolish," he said.

Sherlock laughed without even thinking -- the whiskey had relaxed him more than he’d expected. “I wonder what else you plan to show me tonight,” he said.

"When we go back to Baker Street, you’ll find out.”

Sherlock couldn’t tell if John was teasing or not, so he just moved in even closer. What happened last night flashed in his mind. When the next song came on, he pulled John even closer, pressing his body against his.

“How long does this last?” Sherlock said quietly. “The reception, I mean, not the dance.”

"We can stay as long as we want now that the important stuff is over."

“Should we get another drink?” he asked.

"Maybe just one more," he said.

They walked over to the bar and Sherlock got them each another whiskey. “Could we go outside?” Sherlock asked. “I’d like a cigarette, all right?”

John nodded. "Okay, sure."

Sherlock led the way to the door and they walked around the side of the building, away from the street. Sherlock lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before following his exhale with a sip of whiskey. “Tastes good,” he said quietly. “Are you having fun?”

John nodded, took a sip, and breathed in the cool air. "Sherlock? I'd like to come to your place tonight, if you don't mind."

Sherlock pretended to think for a moment. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

John smiled. "Okay good. Yeah."

Sherlock stepped a little closer. “I found your dancing quite…sexy,” he said, leaning in close, his lips hovering near John’s.

John gazed up at him, grabbing Sherlock's lapels. "I had a sexy teacher . . ."

“Who’s that?” Sherlock asked. He dropped his cigarette and leaned into kiss John roughly. John kissed back hard instead of answering, tugging Sherlock's body closer to his own.

Sherlock pulled his head away and smiled and then stepped back a little and finished his drink. “Shall we have one more dance before we go?” he asked.

"Yes, one more.

They walked back in. Sherlock set his glass on the nearest table and then took John’s from his hand, setting it down as well. He led him to the dancefloor and this time pulled John in tight, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pressing his head to the side of John’s. “Just us again,” he whispered.

John nodded. "I can't wait until we're alone."

“I look forward to it as well,” Sherlock said. He let his hand drift to John’s upper back, pressing the tight muscles.

"If you keep touching me line that I won't make it through the song."

“What will happen?” Sherlock whispered. “You wouldn’t make a scene at your friend’s wedding, would you?”

John smiled. "I'd take you somewhere more private, get my mouth on you.”

Sherlock gripped John’s hand tightly. “I think some of the guests might find that a bit distracting,” he said with a smile.

"They won't see us," John smiled.

Sherlock glanced around the hall. “I don’t know, John Watson,” he said cheekily. “Even if I could somehow talk the DJ into letting me behind his decks, I really don’t know how we’d explain why you need to be on your knees under them.”

John laughed softly against Sherlock's shoulder. "Even more private than that."

“Let’s go home,” Sherlock said, pushing his body tightly against John’s.

"Yes, please. Let me just say goodbye.”

Sherlock followed behind John as they approached the bride and groom.

John congratulated them both and said his goodbyes, taking Sherlock's hand as they turned to leave.

“Home?” Sherlock asked.

John nodded. 

Sherlock lifted his hand to get a taxi and when one pulled up, he opened the door for John and then climbed in. “221 Baker Street,” he told the driver and then slid closer to John. 

“Did you enjoy the wedding?” Sherlock asked quietly as they rode through the streets.

John nodded. "It was fun. I like dancing."

“I’m glad,” Sherlock said, his voice a rough whisper now. “I enjoyed your dancing as well.”

John shifted his in seat and slid his hand up Sherlock's thigh and over his cock. Sherlock leaned over and sucked John’s earlobe into his mouth, teasing the tip with his tongue before nipping at it softly. He pressed his hand over John’s, the pressure of both making his cock ache and start to stiffen.

John panted softly. "Sherlock," he moaned softly.

“I like to hear you say my name,” Sherlock said.

"Sherlock," John moaned again, a soft growl in his voice.

Sherlock looked up and out the window. They were close to home. His other hand stroked the tips of hair at the back of John’s neck. When the taxi pulled up outside the flat, Sherlock shifted quickly, tossing some money to the driver and pulling John to the door. He hurriedly opened it and rushed up the stairs. As soon as they were in the flat, Sherlock pulled John’s coat from his body and let it fall to the floor before stepping in close and roughly kissing his mouth. John looped his arms around Sherlock's neck and tugged him close, pressing their bodies together hard. 

“Bedroom -- mine,” Sherlock mumbled into the kiss and began pulling John down the hall.

John followed quickly, already unbuttoning and trying to strip off his clothes.  
Sherlock pushed open his door and then turned to help John with his clothes. It was too confusing so he began to strip off his own. John was left in his boxers when he tugged Sherlock close for another hard kiss.

“Fuck, John,” Sherlock huffed. “I want you.”

"Me too…I want you, I mean . . ." John said. He pulled Sherlock toward the bed, kissing him hard again. 

Sherlock pulled John down on top of him, squirming for a moment, trying to reach down his body as they kissed. His fingers finally found John’s hardening cock, the skin warm against Sherlock’s palm as he held it for a moment before beginning to stroke him.

"Fuck, Sherlock," John moaned, bucking into his hand.

Sherlock lifted his hand to the back of John’s head, gripping his hair tightly. “You . . .” he mumbled, before kissing him again.

John licked into his mouth and deepened the kiss. "Do you have lube and condoms?" he asked breathlessly.

“In the drawer,’ Sherlock said. He turned to his right. “There.”

John crawled up to get it, moving over Sherlock again. He poured a bit on Sherlock and a bit on his fingers. He massaged the area and pressed in one finger, leaning over to kiss Sherlock.

Sherlock’s hand stroked his own cock as he waited. When John’s finger invaded him, his body tensed for a second. Then he closed his eyes and let all the sensations fill his brain as well as his body which began to relax into the pleasure. He made a soft moan.

John pumped his finger slowly, then worked up to two fingers. As he spread Sherlock open, he kept kissing his mouth and jaw and neck.

“God,” Sherlock moaned more loudly now. “It’s . . . good.” His hand still moving on his cock, he shifted his legs, giving John more room.

John curled and spread his fingers until they moved easily, then added a third to be safe. He found Sherlock's mouth again for a hard kiss. "I can't wait to feel you around me . . ."

Sherlock lifted his free hand to rub John’s shoulders and chest, lingering at his nipples, squeezing them lightly. “Please,” he mumbled.

John nodded, moving his hand away and rolling on the condom. He used his hand to get close and then gently pushed into Sherlock, kissing his mouth again. Sherlock groaned loudly, wrapping his arm around John’s back, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss. 

John started a steady rhythm, moving his hips into Sherlock as they kissed. Sherlock watched John’s face until he started to feel too overwhelmed. He closed his eyes and reached down to stroke himself again, rocking his body between John and the bed.

"God you feel good . . ." John moaned against Sherlock's ear.

“It’s good,” Sherlock exhaled. “It’s right . . .”

John nodded, rolling his hips to go deeper. Sherlock’s hand hit John’s stomach as he jerked his hand in time with his rhythm. John found Sherlock's free hand and laced their fingers as they moved, coiling in his belly.

“Jesus,” Sherlock called. “I can’t take it much longer . . .”

John nodded. "I know . . . I'm close . . ."

“Please,” Sherlock huffed out loudly. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body banged into John’s.

"With me," John moaned softly, moving faster as his pleasure spilt over.

“John,” Sherlock called loudly. He felt his whole body tense as if it were frozen despite the damp sweat on his face. He came hard, squeezing around John.

John moaned loudly -- it all felt incredible, perfect. When the waves of pleasure slowed and he was left panting, he settled on top of Sherlock.

“That was good,” Sherlock said softly as he stroked his back. “I knew it would be.”

John nodded against Sherlock's shoulder. "Amazing," he murmured.

“You’ll stay now, right?” Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "Of course," he said.

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. He’d been right.


	8. Baker Street

In the morning, Sherlock opened his eyes. Someone was in bed with him. And then he remembered: it was John. Things had gone as they should have gone, as he knew they would. He turned to watch John sleep for a few moments. Then he lifted his finger, letting it hover over John’s mouth for a moment. He pulled it back and softly said, “John.”

John shifted and blinked his eyes open. "Hi," he mumbled.

“Do you remember where you are?” Sherlock asked. “You were out of it last night -- do you remember who I am?”

John smiled. "I was kidnapped and swept off my feet by a handsome stranger."

“I didn’t see him,” Sherlock said. He rolled onto his back. “Does this happen to you often then? I feel like I should know -- do you frequently pick up strangers and let them kidnap you? I’m a detective, so I’ll be able to find you, obviously, but I have a right to know in advance how much of my time I should expect the task to take up.”

John laughed. “Actually, I feel amazing," he smiled. "How about you?"

“Excellent,” Sherlock said. “Though I need some tea.” He stretched a little and then sat up. “I’ll bring some in.” He got up and put the kettle on before nipping into the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with two cups of tea. “Don’t be expecting this all the time.”

"No? But it's so nice," John teased.

“I assure you my true nature will eventually be revealed,” Sherlock said. “But it’s too late for you to change your mind now.”

John chuckled softly and shifted into a better position to drink his tea. "It tastes better than mine," he smiled.

“I’m sure it does,” Sherlock said, taking a sip. He looked around the room a little. It was quite perfect having John in the bed beside him, but this room was not big enough for both of their things. He wondered if John would be all right using the wardrobe upstairs. He stretched his legs under the covers and took another sip before asking, “You didn’t have any plans for the day?”

John shook his head. "Any day I don't work is pretty much free."

“Good,” Sherlock said. “Then we should have plenty of time.”

"Time for what?" John asked.

“To move you in,” Sherlock said.

John's brows furrowed lightly. "Move me in where?" 

“Here,” Sherlock said. “Well, the flat . . . you might have to put some of your things in the spare bedroom.”

"Wait . . . what are you talking about?"

Sherlock looked over and asked. “What do you mean, what am I talking about?” 

"You're talking about me moving in here, I don't understand."

Sherlock smiled and said, “Stop joking.” He took a big drink of tea.

"I'm not! When did we talk about moving in?" He asked.

“We talked about it Friday and you weren’t sure, but then last night . . . you said you were. You said you wanted to stay.”

"I . . . I thought you meant for the night," John admitted carefully.

“Right -- every night,” Sherlock said. He paused for a moment. “I see . . .” he said, finishing his tea. “Well, that’s two misunderstandings…. Regardless, shall we get you moved in?”

"I . . . it's just really soon," John said. "I love spending time with you, being around you. But isn't it too soon?"

“I told you it wasn’t and the past two nights certainly haven’t changed my mind,” Sherlock said. “Just -- think for a moment . . . it’s not too soon, John. When it’s right.”

John bit his lip. "Let's start slow. I'll start staying over weekends and maybe some nights when I'm off work and we can build up."

Sherlock turned a little. It was right. He knew it was. But John had to know as well. He would. Soon.

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said finally. “Still . . . I think you should offer me something to show good faith.” 

"Like what?" John asked.

“I don’t know . . . just some assurance that you’re not coming over here just for the shagging,” he said.

"I'll bring a toothbrush to leave here for when I stay the night."

Sherlock thought for a moment. “All right,” he said. “I accept that.”

John got up and kissed him softly. "I'll also make tea half the time."

“Obviously,” Sherlock said. He looked into John’s eyes. “I will wait, John, because I need to know that you know what I know. You will eventually. And when you realise it, I . . . have no doubt you’ll offer to always be in charge of making the tea.” His face spread into a grin. 

He knew he would not have to wait long. Sherlock Holmes had known this was right and he had not been wrong.


End file.
